


Salvation

by leia_scott



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Gun Violence, Major Original Character(s), Mutual Pining, Psychological Torture, Rhodesian Bush War, Rhodesian Bush War Kaz, Slow Burn, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-07-29 09:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7679089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leia_scott/pseuds/leia_scott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhodesia, 1976. Kazuhira Miller's helicopter crash-lands in enemy territory. Carrying time-sensitive intel, he happens upon the Knights of Rhodesia, a mysterious and brutal mercenary outfit that threatens to destabilize the very government Kaz works for. They begrudgingly help him on one condition: that the government won't disband them. Over time Kaz becomes increasingly aware of the lies he has been fed as they show him what's really going on in the war-torn country of Rhodesia. To complicate things further, he finds himself curiously drawn to the group's commander, a young American by the name of Emmaline Ross, knowing full well that the decisions he makes now will affect the rest of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Proving Grounds

**Author's Note:**

> Emma Ross is my OC, and this AU runs parallel to the events of MGSPW and MGSV. Everything Kaz does in this story (being a part of the SAS and residing in Salisbury, etc.) all came from my imagination and a lot of research (because Konami didn't tell us anything other than that he was most likely in Rhodesia during this time), so please do not use these circumstances in your own creations without permission; I've put a lot of hard work into shaping the man he is in Rhodesia.
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to come check out my blog at kazuhiradarling.tumblr.com!

 

 

 

 

 

 

_November 1976. Salisbury, Rhodesia._

 

 

        “Major Miller, a report from Fort Victoria.”  
        Kaz looked up from his work, peering over his glasses at the young man that stood before him. “Leave it on my desk.”  
        “Yes, sir.” The man slid the folder onto the ever-growing pile of paperwork on Kaz’s desk and saluted quickly before slipping back out of the office. Kaz sighed and took off his glasses, massaging the bridge of his nose. He didn’t want to have to read another word of this nonsense. Day in and day out, it was nothing but mixed reports from the field. Nothing but how much the SAS was struggling to not lose its grip on the situation. Soldiers going AWOL or outright defecting… It was all just one big mess. Nobody from Command new what was going on out there. He was itching to get out in the field to see for himself, but he'd been as good as strapped to his desk for the past few weeks, completely bogged down with paperwork.  
        _This_ was not why he had come to Rhodesia, to sit behind a desk all day and write men off to god only knows what fate. No, he had come to help heal a country that was in dire need of healing. That was exactly what he had told them when he joined up, and they had smiled cheerfully, boosting him up to the rank of Major and plopping him behind a desk. Sure, he was no war hero. He wasn’t Snake, not by a long shot. He had always been fine with crunching numbers and making sure these massive war machines stayed afloat from a financial standpoint. He would never _dislike_ any of that. But this time around he wanted a different perspective on things. He hadn’t seen any action since the MSF days and he knew he would be of more use with a gun in his hands in a conflict like this.  
        The telephone rang, startling him out of his daze. He caught it on the second ring.  
        “Major Miller.”  
        Colonel Harper’s gruff voice came over the line. _“Miller, have you had a look at that report yet?”_  
        “I’m looking at it right now, sir,” Kaz said, scrambling to find the folder in a sea of similar-looking manila folders. He found it and opened it, quickly skimming the details. _Damn. This was new._ “This is… pretty sensitive information.”  
        _“That’s right. These aren’t ordinary troop movements. This is a large portion of ZANLA forces we’re talking about here.”_  
        That much was certainly true. Kaz read the note at the bottom. “Colonel, this intel needs to get to Bulawayo. Has it already been relayed?”  
        _“Negative. Given the situation with the recent tapped lines, we need someone to do this personally. We can’t let intel of this magnitude fall into the enemy’s hands.”_  
        Excitement rose in Kaz’s chest. “Anyone in mind for the job, sir?”  
        There was a chuckle. _“You, actually.”_ Kaz pumped his fist silently. _Finally._ He would be able to get out of this damn building… For a little while at least. _“I’m prepping a chopper and a security detail. You have to get to Bulawayo without any hiccups along the way. I’m trusting you to not go AWOL on us like our last informant.”_  
        “Don’t worry about a thing, sir. We’ll have this report in Bulawayo before you know it.”  
        _“I should hope so. Report to the tarmac in half an hour.”_  
        “Yes sir.” There was a click as the Colonel hung up. Kaz sat back in his chair proudly, a smug grin plastered across his face.  
        _Finally._  
        He gathered the day’s worth of finished paperwork and set it aside for the secretary, tucking the report in question under his arm. He wasn’t going to let them down. No way in hell. There was too much at stake. Perhaps if everything went smoothly enough they’d let him do more fieldwork in the future. He knew he was getting his hopes up, but he didn’t care. This was his one chance to prove himself, and he wasn’t going to blow it.  
        He checked his watch. Twenty-five minutes to get everything in order.  
        Kaz picked up the pack of cigarettes that sat on his desk and tucked them into his pocket before fastening his belt and holster around his waist. He shrugged on his H-harness and slid his glasses back on. There was a knock on the doorframe and he looked up to see the regiment's ever-cheerful and slightly scattered secretary, her arms full of papers.  
        “I’ve come to collect your reports, Major.” She cocked her head to the side as she watched him gear up. “Going somewhere, are we?”  
        Kaz grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. “Anywhere but here, Wilma,” he said, handing her his reports.  
        She rolled her eyes and wrenched the reports from his grasp, adding them to her pile and walking back down the hall, her heels clicking as she went.  
        He closed his heavy wooden office door behind him as he left, double-checking that he had everything he needed before he headed out.  
        The sun beat mercilessly down onto the tarmac and mirages rose above the horizon in all directions. This was the kind of weather he absolutely hated, the dry heat that made him sweat buckets the instant he stepped out the door. He hadn’t even begun to grow accustomed to it yet, even after being here for a year; he didn’t know how _anyone_ could.  
        The helicopter started up its rotors as he approached, and several other troopers filed in, toting their assault rifles. Kaz didn’t expect them to run into any trouble, but then again, they were in the middle of a war zone at all times. It was always better to be safe than sorry, especially with the information he carried. He threw his flight bag into the chopper and climbed in, and once the pilot got the all-clear they were off. Kaz watched Salisbury grow smaller below him, the buildings shrinking and growing further away as they headed West.  
        The troopers chattered idly, buzzing with excitement. They were still green. Hadn’t seen a lick of action in the field, and just like him, they ached to be a part of something more exciting. They were still young; they could get away with wanting to be in the field just for the sake of the experiences, the stories to tell. Hell, he had been that way once, too. Blindly craving combat without any thought of the consequences. But that way of thinking often got people killed. Kaz was lucky he was still here to learn from it.  
        They had been in the air for a solid forty-five minutes when the pilot motioned for Kaz to come to the front. He stepped over the bags and made his way up to the cockpit, taking a seat in the copilot’s seat.  
        “What’s up?”  
        The pilot raised his visor and pointed to the map. “There are reports of heavy artillery fire coming in northeast of Gwelo. I’m going to alter our course to take us south of that mess.”  
        “That’s fine. Do what you have to do,” Kaz said, putting his hand on the pilot’s shoulder and heading into the back of the chopper again. He had barely taken a step when suddenly the instrument panel came to life, a chorus of beeping filling his ears. He spun back around.  
        “What’s going on?”  
        “We have a lock on us. I’d recommend strapping in.”  
        Kaz turned to the rest of the men. “You heard him!” Kaz slid into an open seat and pulled the harness on, buckling it and loading his gun. The helicopter made a sharp turn and one of the recruits started to slide out the side. “Grab my hand!” Kaz said, extending his arm. The recruit took it just in time and Kaz clenched his teeth and grunted at the weight, feeling like his arm was going to be pulled out of its socket at any moment. The beeping stopped and the helicopter righted itself. Kaz pulled the recruit into an open seat and helped him with his harness. “Let’s not do that again,” he panted.  
        “We’re not out of this yet,” called the pilot. “I’m going to have to-” He was interrupted by a burst of machine gun fire that tore through the hull of the helicopter. Kaz felt a bullet rip through his side, sure that there would be more. He wasn’t wrong. A blacked-out helicopter thundered in alongside them, opening fire on them before anyone could react. Blood sprayed over Kaz’s face as the soldiers were cut down in front of him and he undid his harness, taking his gun and aiming it through the enemy chopper’s cockpit. He took several shots and ducked as another spray of bullets pinged off the SAS helicopter. Kaz looked up to see the pilot slump forward over the controls, and the helicopter began to pitch downwards. He held on tightly to a metal bar below the pilot’s seat as gravity pulled him outwards in the flat spin.  
        _“Grraaaahh!”_ It took every ounce of his strength not to let go. He looked out the side to see the ground rapidly approaching. If he could just make it to the controls… He mustered his strength and pulled himself up to the control panel, taking the joystick from the pilot’s lifeless hands and pulling back as hard as he could. The nose slowly turned upwards but they were still coming in too fast. Kaz quickly pushed the pilot out of the seat and strapped himself in, trying to slow their speed. It was too late.  
        The helicopter hit the ground hard, kicking up red dirt as it skidded through a clearing, obstructing Kaz’s vision as the dirt flew in through the open sides. The rotors broke off and the hull began to roll, slowing to a stop as it intrenched itself in the thick mud of a stream.  
        Kaz sat completely limp in the pilot’s seat, upside down, one blink away from blacking out. He took a moment to muster his strength before he unbuckled himself, sliding out of the seat and hitting the floor with a metallic bang. Smoke filled the hull and he checked for signs of movement before pulling himself out and splashing into the shallow stream. He propped himself up against the tail rotor and looked down at his chest, watching blood gush out of three fresh bullet holes. He was losing blood fast. He tore the bandana from his neck, pressing it against the worst of the injuries, yelling as pain spidered up his side.  
        _Jesus christ, he was going to die._  
       He felt his vision fading and his strength waning as he tried to keep pressure on his wound. He was going to die in the ass-end middle of nowhere. What a fitting death.  
        Kaz felt his warm blood seeping through his fingers, trickling down his arm and into the stream. The adrenaline was wearing off and the pain was debilitating, even with the smallest of movements.  
        What an embarrassment to Snake’s legacy. Snake would wake up and ask where Kaz was, and someone would have to tell him that he died in a helicopter crash. Didn't even go out fighting. What would he say?   
        Kaz’s world began to spin and slowly his eyes closed on their own accord. Nothing scared him more than not knowing if they would open again. And just like that, he slipped into unconsciousness.


	2. The Knights of Rhodesia

 

 

_November 1976. 8 km from Selukwe, Rhodesia._

 

 

        Emma held the binoculars to her eyes, watching the thick black plume of smoke rise into the air. Beads of sweat rolled down her cheeks despite her position, hunkered down in the shade of a canopy of trees. She and her small patrol had been on their way back to base when two helicopters had thundered overhead, bullets flying. One of them went down a little over two kilometers away.  
        She turned to the two other men behind her, both of whom were growing more restless by the minute. Her patrol had been away from base too long already, and she knew they wanted nothing more than to get back. She didn’t blame them; dehydration had begun to set in as their empty canteens bumped against their hips, a constant reminder that they were running out of time. Dehydration would kill a soldier faster than a bullet out here, and her company’s lives were already beginning to dwindle as it was.  
        She pursed her lips. “I think we should check it out," she said, the Afrikaans rolling off her tongue.  
        One of the men scoffed, slowly rising to his feet and dusting the dirt from his trousers. His dark skin glistened with sweat, and fatigue slowed his movements. “Akashinga expected us back hours ago. Whoever was in that chopper is dead.”  
        “That wasn’t a bad crash, Mabasashe. Someone could have survived that.”  
        Mabasashe came forward, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. _“And?_ If they did? ZANLA will surely put a bullet through their skull long before we could ever get there.” He swatted a mosquito away from his face and gestured back at the other man, who was sitting against the tree, head in hands. “Let’s go back, Emma. The heat is getting to Bill.”  
        Emma brought the binoculars back up to her eyes and scanned the area surrounding the wreckage. “It’s still no man’s land. We can get there before ZANLA does.”  
        “Emma-”  
        Emma ignored him and turned to the other man. “Bill, go get the jeep. This is going to be in and out. Any ammo and supplies we can get our hands on, throw them in the back. Mabasashe and I will go on foot, but I want you behind the wheel so we can get out of there as fast as possible.”  
        “Yes ma’am,” he said tiredly, pulling himself to his feet and disappearing into the underbrush.  
        Even if there were no survivors, there was sure to be a good amount of ammo to scavenge. Maybe she could even get a new transmitter out of it. The radio back at base was busted, hence the reason they couldn’t touch back with them every now and then. It was worth the risk, even if they came out almost empty-handed.  
        “Come on, Maba.” She trudged through the tall grass, reloading her rifle as she went. He cursed under his breath and followed begrudgingly. The moment they stepped out of the shade it was like stepping into an oven; the breath was sucked from Emma’s lungs and she struggled to stay on her feet. It _would_ be worth it, right?  
        Within twenty minutes of walking the air began to grow thick with smoke. They reached the clearing and Emma signaled for Bill to stop the jeep. The air was eerily still, as if the slightest wrong movement could trigger a full-blown assault from unseen enemy forces. She looked to Mabasashe and she knew he felt it, too. They slowly picked their way through the wreckage, passing twisted metal and what Emma could only guess to be human remains. She held her bandana over her nose and mouth as the smell of burnt flesh and gasoline filled her lungs. They reached the hull of the helicopter and peered in to see several ammo cases, some of which had tipped over and scattered their contents over the thick mud. Emma nodded to Mabasashe and he piled them into his arms and brought them back towards the jeep.  
        Emma raised her rifle and continued around the back, her feet sinking into the mud. She was about to turn back to the hull when a metallic shine caught her eye. A man was propped up against the tail of the chopper, his Rolex watch catching the few of the sun’s rays that cut though the smoke. Emma splashed through the stream, slowing as she approached him.  
        He wore an SAS uniform, his polished ranks glinting off of his lapels. She cautiously pushed his hand out of the way with the barrel of her rifle to reveal several bullet wounds, blood still slowly oozing out of them. He stirred slightly and Emma jumped back, snapping her rifle up at him as his eyes fluttered open.  
        “Maba!” She called. “This one’s alive!”  
        “Bring him back to the jeep,” he shouted. “I’ve got the last of the ammo loaded. We need to-”  
        He was interrupted as the surrounding tree line suddenly came to life with the sound of automatic gunfire. Emma dropped to a knee as bullets pinged off the sides of the helicopter. The man’s eyes were still open, but barely. She pulled him forward and hooked her arms under his, dragging him backwards. A weak groan escaped his lips and his eyes squeezed shut in pain. She almost felt sorry for him, but she was too busy struggling against the resistance the mud put up to really notice. Bullets whizzed overhead and her boots sank even further into the mud. She was barely making any progress.  
        _“Maba!”_ She yelled between clenched teeth, hoping he could hear her over the sound of the gunfire. “I need help!”  
        “Hold on!”  
        Emma mustered her strength and gave another pull, freeing her boots from the mud and pulling him onto the rocky soil. The helicopter no longer offered her cover and bullets flew by at an alarming rate as the soldiers zeroed in on her position. She felt a hand on her arm and she turned to see Mabasashe, who pushed her away and hoisted the man up onto his shoulders. They ran back to the jeep as bullets spat up dirt around them and Emma laid down cover fire as Mabasashe loaded the man into the jeep.  
        “Let’s go, Emma!”  
        Emma fired another burst into the trees before sliding into the jeep with the others.  
        “Get us out of here, Bill!” she said, ducking her head. Bill floored the accelerator and with a bit of wheel-spin they were off, kicking up bright red dust behind them. The sound of gunfire slowly faded as they sped down the dirt road and back into the thick jungle. Everyone seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. Mabasashe nodded towards the back, where the man had been laid out across the seats.  
        “Akashinga will want our heads. Risking our lives for a fucking SAS trooper.”  
        “Let me worry about Akashinga. You two were only following orders.” Emma took the bandana from around Mabasashe’s neck, as well as her own, and climbed into the backseat.  
        He was still awake, but barely. His skin was ghost-white and blood gushed out of his reopened wounds. His eyes were shut tightly as he clutched the front of his jacket, blood soaking his hands.  
        “Here,” Emma said, pressing the cloth onto his wounds. He winced as she applied pressure, but he remained silent. She eyed the ranks on his lapels. “You with the SAS, Major?” She said, switching to English.   
        He opened his eyes slightly and his mouth began to move, but no words came out. He slowly brought a hand up to his chest, using every ounce of his strength to do so. He tapped the tag above his breast pocket, lingering on it for a moment before his hand fell limply to his side. He looked up at her with silent expectation and she wiped the blood away from the patch, reading the name.  
        “Miller? Your name is Miller.”  
        His mouth began to move again and she leaned down so her ear was only inches from his lips.  
        _“Salisbury…”_ he breathed. “I need… to get back… to Salisbury.”  
        Emma was silent. Salisbury. _Of course._ He was from SAS Command. There was no way in hell he’d be getting to Salisbury any time in the near future, given their current situation. Besides, the last SAS trooper to set foot inside the compound's walls didn't hesitate to put a bullet in one of her men's skull. No, this one would be watched _very_ carefully.  
        “We’ll see,” she said distractedly.  
        A look of frustration and confusion crossed his face and he grabbed her sleeve, holding onto it with all his strength. His eyes burned with anger and he clenched his jaw, his eyes only half-open but still staring into hers with blazing intensity. She knew what he was trying to say, but she wasn’t going to give him what he wanted. She rested the heel of her hand upon the gun in her holster and he let go, falling back onto the seat once more in defeat.  
        By the time they got back to the base the other patrols had begun to filter in. They watched as the jeep drove by, an SAS trooper passed out in the back seat. There were murmurs as they watched their Commander bringing another traitor to their doorstep. They remembered what happened last time.  
        Emma knew they were all questioning her sanity. They had been doing so for the past several weeks, and she didn’t blame them. She was cracking under pressure, losing more men every day. She didn’t know how long everyone was going to last. Her only hope was that somehow this trooper would know enough to give them a foothold and push back the forces that had them surrounded. Every day she woke up wondering if that day would be her last. ZANLA had the power to tear through the base in an hour if they knew how few people were really left.  
        The jeep pulled up next to the command building and Emma watched Akashinga push through the doors and come down the steps towards them.  
        “Emma! You were due back hours ago. What happ-” He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the man in the back of the jeep. He pursed his lips, his nostrils flaring as he looked back at her with fiery amber eyes. “There had better be a _damn good_ explanation for this.”  
        Emma slid out of her seat and made her way around to him. “He was in a helicopter crash. Almost got our asses kicked back there trying to pull him out, but listen, Akashinga…” She pulled him away from the jeep and lowered her voice. “What if he knows something? What if he could, I don’t know, radio in a unit of troopers to take care of the guerrillas? The SAS would cut right through them in a matter of minut-”  
        “SAS troopers? _Here?_ Are you out of your mind? So what do they do when they’re through with ZANLA and they notice _us?_ They’re going to kill us, that’s what.”  
        Emma sighed. It was a good point. They weren’t on the best of terms with the government. To be fair, the government didn’t even know they existed. And it was her goal to keep it that way.  
        “If we can get something from him, anything… We have nothing to lose, Akashinga.”  
         She knew he couldn’t argue with that. He narrowed his eyes and looked back towards Miller.  
        “Do what you must. But his actions are your responsibility.” He motioned over two men that stood nearby, pointing towards Miller “Take this man upstairs and take care of his injuries.”  
        “Yes, sir.” They pulled him out of the jeep and brought him inside the building, disappearing as the doors closed behind them.  
        Akashinga turned to Emma, staring directly into her eyes. “Don’t make yourself regret this, Commander.” He continued across the compound and Emma turned back to Mabasashe and Bill.  
        “Go get yourselves some water. You’ve done enough for the day.”  
        Bill turned to leave, but Mabasashe lingered for a moment.  
        “All due respect, Emma… but Akashinga is right. I hope you realize that before it is too late.”  
        _“Go,_ Maba.”  
        He looked down on her and sighed before following Bill towards the barracks.  
        Akashinga _was_ right. _Of course_ she realized that. But nobody could understand the lengths she was willing to go to in order to let the Knights live just a little longer. If she had to pry the information out of Miller's cold corpse, she would.  
        She headed inside the Command building and took the stairs two at a time, rounding the corner at the top. She leaned against the doorframe and watched with curiosity as the medic began to dig the bullets out of his side. He grit his teeth, looking up when he felt Emma's presence in the doorway, squinting against the light from the window.  
        “I’m guessing I’m going to be shot if I try to part ways?” His voice was still weak, but his accent was what caught her attention. What the hell was another American doing out here?  
        “There are patrols at all hours, so if you try to escape, you _will_ be caught. That’s more for your own safety than anything else. This base is completely surrounded by ZANLA militants so you won’t get far in any direction.”  
        “And who the hell are _you?”_  
        Emma crossed her arms. “I’m Commander Ross. You’re in the company of the Knights of Rhodesia.”


	3. See for Yourself

_November 1976. Knights of Rhodesia HQ._

 

        Kaz groaned as the sound of raised voices woke him. How many times did he have to tell the recruits-  
        He opened his eyes to find that he was, in fact, not at the SAS barracks. _Where the hell…?_ He started to sit up but immediately collapsed back onto the worn mattress as searing pain spidered up his side. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember where the hell he was and how he had gotten here. Almost in answer to his question, the bickering voices down the hall grew loud enough that he was able to make out the words they said.  
        “ _Ek wil nie om dit te hoor_ -” A woman’s voice rang through the hall, and was cut off quickly by a man’s.  
        “ _Jy gaan hê om, of jy nou daarvan hou of nie._ ”  
        _“Ek het gesê-”_  
        “Comander.” His voice grew more gentle. “This choice isn’t yours alone to make. _Die mans kry rusteloos_.”  
        “Fine. Let them.”  
        The man clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “ _Dink na oor wat ons prioriteite is, waar ons ons hulpbronne moet toekenning. Dit is 'n vermorsing._ ”  
        “ _Gee my 'n kans, Maba. Ek sweer ek sal dinge reg te maak nie. Ek weet wat ek doen._ ”  
        The man grew silent for a moment before he sighed. “I’ll handle the men the best I can,” he said softly. “But I cannot guarantee their trust in you will not falter.”  
        They exchanged a few more words that Kaz couldn’t quite make out before he heard the sound of heavy footsteps heading down the stairs.  
        It was all coming back to him now. Slipping in and out of consciousness, the swirls of color… The scarlet red of his blood and the indescribable pain as a finger pushed around in his side, digging out shrapnel, bullets… The ever-present auburn-haired woman, the sound of gunfire echoing in his ringing ears and her clipped Afrikaans playing over all of it. He had been sure it was all a hallucination. There was no other way to describe it. And yet here he was. He slipped his hand under his shirt, running his fingers over the rough bandages that were wound tightly around him, inhaling sharply as the pain flared up again under his touch.  
        He had thought he was alone until he heard the sound of boots upon the old wooden floorboards slowly making their way down the hall towards him. He let his head fall back on the pillow as the footsteps stopped in the doorway.  
        “Glad to see you’re fully awake.” The woman’s voice was quiet but stern as she switched effortlessly to English, a crisp American accent rolling off her tongue. She dragged a chair across the floor and placed it at the side of the bed, lowering herself onto it as she watched him with a look of curiosity.  
        He squinted against the light that shone in through the open window, making it almost impossible for him to make out her face. Eventually he resorted to keeping his eyes closed.  
        “Where the _hell…_ ”  
        “Confidential,” she said simply, watching him closely. She motioned to his eyes, which were shut tight. “You okay? Something in your eye?”  
        He opened them just enough to get a good look at her. She was young, a few loose auburn strands of hair framing her girlish face. But there was something in her large brown eyes that was uncharacteristic of her youth, something that matured her. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. What the hell was she doing out here in the middle of Rhodesia?  
        “I… lost my sunglasses. In the crash.”  
        She raised an eyebrow and looked down at her breast pocket, hesitantly taking her own pair of aviators from it and holding the them out to him.  
        “I’m going to want these back.”  
        He took them and examined them. They were nice glasses, and would certainly do in a pinch. He slid them on, suppressing a sigh of relief as his vision cleared significantly.  
        “How long was I…?” he said quietly, almost afraid to hear the answer.  
        “Three days. Well… Four, counting today.”  
      _“Fuck,”_ he hissed.  
        “Got somewhere to be?”  
        His brow knit together as he looked up at her, filled with annoyance at her obvious delusions of authority. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You already know I was supposed to be in Bulawayo…” He pinched the bridge of his nose. This couldn’t be happening. His hand shot up and he took her by the front of her shirt, yanking her down to his level. He took the gun from her holster before she could reach for it, pressing it to her temple and cocking it. “People’s lives are at stake,” he said between clenched teeth, trying his best to ignore the throbbing pain from the wounds he had just reopened. “You have no idea how serious this is.” She sat completely still, her hand still frozen over her holster.  
        “You’re right, I don’t,” she said calmly. “So why don’t you inform me?”  
        He blinked and let the gun fall slightly, looking into her eyes for something that would give away her intentions. There was nothing.  
        “It’s... confidential,” he said dryly, holding the gun back up to her head with a false front of self-assurance.  
        “Then how do you expect me to be able to help you?” She saw the conflict in his eyes and continued, satisfied that she had finally piqued his interest. “If we wanted you dead then we would have left you to bleed out in the dirt.” He sighed, and she slowly reached up and moved the gun away from her head with a single slender finger before taking it from his loosening grip. “That’s better.” She slid the gun back into her holster, turning her hip away so he wouldn't reach for it again. “So are you going to tell me or not?”  
        Kaz ignored her question. “Why did you keep me alive, then? There’s obviously something you want.”  
        She raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “SAS or not, I’m not about to let an innocent person die-”  
        “Spare me the bullshit.”  
        Her expression grew irritated as she looked down on him. “Have a hard time believing there are good people still out there, Major?” Kaz was silent. “We’ve got a whole company full of them right under your nose,” she said, gesturing out the window. “Good people who are dying every day.”  
        “Say whatever you want to help you sleep better at night, but cut the wistfulness, kid. It doesn’t work. What you and your treehouse club are doing out here is unsanctioned.”  
        She narrowed her eyes and her demeanor turned cold. “Come again?” she said slowly.  
        “You heard m-”  
        He was cut short by a harsh slap to his face. His cheek burned and he brought his hand to it in shock. “Don’t you _dare_ patronize me. You’d best take a good look at the level of respect people treat each other with around here before you open your goddamn mouth.”  
        He glared, his lip forming into a snarl. _“Let me go._ I won’t ask twice.”  
        “I’m asking for one thing, that you help us push back the ZANLA militants that have us surrounded. We need SAS resources and you can’t get out without our help-”  
        “Wanna bet?”  
        She clenched her jaw and fell silent. Kaz smiled smugly. They were going about it all the wrong way. Then again, he could probably blame that on the leadership, or lack thereof-  
        “Fine.” She took the pistol back out of her holster, slamming it down onto the bedside table with a huff. Kaz was caught off-guard by her reaction and watched in surprise as she set down two magazines next to it. “Since you’re _obviously_ so eager to do it yourself, here’s everything you’ll need.” She motioned to the stray bullets and pieces of metal that had been sitting on the table. “Here are some souvenirs that our medic dug out of you, feel free to take those to remember us by.” She stood, heading to the doorway before whirling around to face him one last time. “And keep the glasses,” she spat. “I expect you’ll want to see where you’re shooting.” She marched back out into the hall, disappearing from view. Kaz listened as the sound of her boots faded and she made her way down the stairs.  
        He sat silently, watching the pistol and ammo she had left like it would suddenly jump to life, chastising him for getting into this mess in the first place. He huffed and sat up, tensing as the pain dug into his ribs. This wasn’t going to be easy. He could already feel his warm blood soaking through the bandages.   
        He swung his legs over the side of the bed and slowly stood, his head spinning and his ears ringing. He paused for a moment and closed his eyes, letting his blood circulate more before reaching for the gun and sliding it into the waistband of his trousers. He tucked the spare magazines into his back pocket and picked up one of the bullets that had been taken out of him, holding it up to his eyes to get a better look at it. The blood had been cleaned from it, the metal slightly warped from when it had lodged itself in him.  
        Whoever these mercenaries were, they had saved his life. That wasn’t something he took lightly, but it confused him nonetheless. He had heard their murmurs about the SAS in his half-conscious state. But if they weren’t with Rhodesia or ZANLA, who _were_ they with? He pocketed the bullet and pulled on his boots that sat beside the bed before heading out of the room.  
        The building was old, perhaps a World War II-era command post. Jumbles of wires ran across the walls like overgrown vines and old radio equipment sat in every corner, collecting dust in its neglect. Kaz peered into the other rooms to find them filled with supplies. Ammo, rations, equipment… They had a wide assortment of objects but it was apparent that their stockpile was dwindling. Sunlight filtered in through the foggy windows, particles of dust dancing in the beams. The old floorboards creaked under his feet as he made his way to the stairs, pausing for a moment in the doorway of another room.  
Inside lay three men, either barely breathing or dead. His stomach churned as he looked down upon them, covered in blood, their mouths agape. He closed his eyes and made his way to the stairwell, heading downstairs.  
        The first floor was home to some kind of cobbled-together communications array. Only a few of the machines were running, the room filled with their steady whirr and occasional beeps. The men inside the room looked up when they saw him but said nothing, their eyes burning into his skull as he turned away and headed out the front door.  
        The sunlight bombarded his eyes despite the dark lenses of the glasses he wore, and he held a hand up to his eyes as they adjusted. He started to make his way across the compound, kicking up the red dirt as he went. All eyes were on him as he quietly continued forward. The woman was bent over a map on the hood of a jeep, and she, too, straightened up and watched him pass, resting a hand on her hip and muttering something to the man standing next to her. He could feel her stare burning into him more intensely than the dry heat of the sun, but still he continued onwards, ignoring their whispers and gritting his teeth as he felt his shirt grow wet with his blood. He looked up at the position of the sun and and then at his watch, trying to get his bearings and figure out where he was. He looked around, hoping to find something familiar, something he remembered from when they had brought him in.  
        He racked his brain, trying to dig any clues out from the fuzziness of the past few days’ memories. He looked around, scanning the area for something. Anything. A large wall topped with barbed wire surrounded the compound, and the only gap in it was straight ahead of him, in the form of a gate. He headed towards it.  
       Soldiers milled about in the compound, methodically cleaning their guns or closing their eyes for a few moments’ rest in the shade of a nearby building. They, too, looked up at him as he passed. They toted weapons of all makes and countries of origin, light weapons to heavy artillery. It was obvious that they had a hand or two dipped in the black market. It didn’t surprise him; Kaz had shut down his fair share of unauthorized mercenary units and had just about seen it all. This one was unlike any he had ever seen, though. They had the location, they had the means, and they had the manpower needed to run a strong outfit. He was surprised the government wasn’t aware of their existence, especially considering the sheer amount of firepower they were packing. Once again he couldn’t help but wonder whose side they were _really_ on.  
        The guards silently opened the gate as he headed towards it, watching him with a look of disdain, but otherwise unreadable expressions. The road headed straight into the thick jungle, disappearing around a bend. He looked back just as the gate was closed behind him. Most of the soldiers had gone back to what they were doing, but the woman and her subordinate watched him with crossed arms. He took a deep breath and headed into the jungle, following the road until the compound disappeared behind him. The road had to lead somewhere, didn’t it? It was a good place to start.  
        He trudged through the undergrowth, swatting mosquitos away from his face as he went. The air among the trees was much more humid, and sweat soaked his shirt as he struggled to push his way through the tangled leaves and vines. He kept his senses as clear as he could, but the only sounds he could make out were those of the droning insects and his own heavy breathing. He had been walking for a good half hour before his injuries begged for a brief rest.  He lifted his shirt and put some pressure on his wounds, biting his lip as agonizing pain rose under his touch. The last thing he needed was to lose more blood. His head was already spinning and he was losing too much water through his sweat. He opted to sit down for a moment, holding his head in his hands as he tried to slow his breathing.  
        Suddenly a swishing sound met his ears and he froze, trying to identify its source. It was coming from behind him, a decent ways away, but drawing closer. It sounded like a machete cutting through the dense foliage. Voices came into earshot, and he heard mangled bits of conversation and laughter. He couldn’t identify the language, but it certainly wasn’t English or Afrikaans. He looked around, desperate for any form of cover. There was no telling how many men would come through those leaves at any moment and he didn’t want to wait around to find out. There was a large clump of vines and leaves nearby and he ran to it, sliding underneath it. He grit his teeth as pain shot up his side once more. The hacking grew closer and he sat as still as he could, keeping his breathing shallow.  
        With a single swing the machete cut through the nearby vines and Kaz watched as at least a dozen ZANLA soldiers filed through the gap, their high-powered rifles casually slung over their shoulders as they joked among themselves. Ammunition jingled in their pouches and the sun glinted off of the barrels of their guns as they picked their way along mere feet from where he hid.  
        Suddenly there was a shout and Kaz felt his heart stop in his chest. The men halted and Kaz held his breath as boots shuffled past his hiding spot. A man who Kaz could only guess to be their leader held up his hand before slowly turning his attention to a large leaf. He showed it to the others, and Kaz noticed that it was streaked in blood… _his_ blood.  
        He couldn’t believe his stupidity. He must have brushed past it absent-mindedly. Kaz mentally cursed himself and pressed himself lower against the dirt as the men took their rifles in their hands and slowly began to search the area. He started to slowly move his hand towards the gun in his waistband, resting his hand on it as the men scouted out the bushes nearby. He was having trouble keeping his breathing slow and shallow as a soldier rustled through the bush to his immediate left. Kaz watched from his peripherals as a pair of boots stopped next to him, close enough to make out the branding on the side. Kaz’s fingers wrapped around the grip of the pistol, ready to pull it out at any second.  
        There was another shout and Kaz breathed a sigh of relief as the man walked away, regrouping with the rest of his unit. There was more jumbled talking before they continued their search back in the direction from which Kaz had come.  
        He waited several minutes to be sure they were gone before dragging himself out of his hiding spot, caked with mud. He was still bleeding, but his muddy shirt helped to slow the blood flow slightly. He drew the pistol, proceeding with added caution this time as he made his way through the foliage once more.  
        If that was the worst of it, just a wandering patrol or two, there was no way he wouldn’t be able to sneak past their lines. He continued onwards parallel to the road, ready to drop at a moment’s notice with any sign of movement. He hadn’t the slightest idea where the road led but it had to lead somewhere, and anywhere was better than-  
        He stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the tree line, dropping behind a tree for cover. There, less than a hundred feet away, a tall barbed wire fence had been erected, a ZANLA militant for every square yard, or so it seemed. Tents had been set up along the line, and even more soldiers were camped out behind it. He poked his head out of his cover just far enough to see that the fence stretched in both directions, making a wide radius around the thick jungle.  
        _“Jesus christ,”_ he breathed. Wherever the hell he was… the SAS had no record whatsoever of any ZANLA activity of this magnitude. And assuming that the Knights’ Commander was right, and the base _was_ completely surrounded…  
        He needed to find a working radio.  
        Kaz slid the gun back into his waistband, slowly backing into the leaves once more. There was no way in hell he was going to go charging in with a pistol. For now, he needed to rethink his strategy.  
        He headed back in the direction he had come from, retracing his steps almost exactly. He moved as quickly and as quietly as he could, not letting his guard down once, dropping to the ground at even the slightest sound of movement. All he needed to do was reach the base alive. The Knights wouldn’t kill him, not after saving his life. He was more worried about the ZANLA patrols that roamed between him and the base itself.  
        He made good time, being more careful this time not to leave any trace of his presence as he ducked under leaves and pushed past the vines. There were a few occasions that he had caught a glimpse of a few patrolling soldiers, but he had seen them before they saw him and he was careful to find cover until they passed. Relief washed over him as the tall compound wall finally came to view and he circled around it, searching for the gate.  
        Suddenly from behind him came the click of a gun being cocked and he felt cold metal against the base of his skull. He froze, one hand against the wall and the other hovering over his gun, wondering if these would be his last moments, a foot of concrete sitting between him and safety.  
        “Seen enough yet?” Kaz recognized the voice of the man from the compound and he relaxed slightly, moving his other hand away from his holster.  
        “Listen, I need to use your radio.”  
        The man snorted, his laugh echoing through the trees. “You and everyone else here.” He pressed the gun harder against the back of Kaz’s head, his tone growing serious once more. “I was almost hoping I would find your dead body, but it seems you have disappointed me.”  
        “Let me speak to your Commander.”  
        The man kicked the back of Kaz’s legs and he pitched forward into the dirt, the breath knocked from his lungs. The man held the gun down at him, his eyes burning.  
        “Let me make this _very_ clear,” he said, squatting down to Kaz’s level and holding the gun to his head. Kaz could see the blood of dozens of men in the man’s eyes, unspeakable atrocities playing out in his irises. “We do not take orders from you. _She_ does not take orders from you. Am I understood?”  
        Kaz clenched his teeth and remained silent.   
        The man stood and pulled Kaz up by his elbow, holding tightly to it with a steel grip. He led Kaz around the wall until they reached the entrance, and he nodded to the guards inside. The large gates slowly swung open and they made their way through them. The man led him back in the direction of the Command building, his gun never leaving Kaz’s temple for a second.  
        Kaz tried to ignore the heat creeping up his cheeks as the soldiers snickered at the sight of him, bloody and covered in dirt, coming crawling back to the very people he had sought to get away from. His humiliation was a small price to pay for his life, though, as well as the chance to relay this monumental intel to the SAS.  
        The man pushed him through the doors and into the communications room, where the woman and several other Knights were gathered. She spun to face him when he came in, and Kaz’s chest burned with anger and embarrassment as a smug smile crept across her face.  
        “Back so soon, Major?”  
        Maba released him and he scanned the room, looking for the radio.  
        “Your radio-”  
        “-is broken,” she finished. “It needs a new transmitter.”  
        He stepped towards her, urgently pointing back in the direction of the jungle. “There are _hundreds_ of ZANLA soldiers out there, just waiting-”  
        “I’m well aware.” There was a tired tone in her voice that she tried her best to hide as she looked back down at the map that was spread across the table. “It’s been this way for the past month. They haven't pushed in yet, so I reckon they don’t know how many of us are left… or they’re trying to starve us out.” She looked up at him. “You understand why we need each other’s help on this now, yes?”  
        Kaz inhaled deeply. She was right. The only way for him to relay information back to Salisbury was with a transmitter. He would only be able to get his hands on one by cutting through the surrounding militants. And he needed help to do that, there was no denying it.  
        “Fine,” he said hesitantly. He held out his hand and she took it, giving it a firm shake. “But there’s a limit to what I’ll do. I can’t get wrapped up in unsanctioned business.”  
        She narrowed her eyes. “Prove to me you’re not just another government goon and maybe I’ll cut you a little slack. But until then, you do what I say.”  
        Kaz huffed. She was stubborn, he would give her that. Demanding unquestioning compliance from a ranking SAS officer was a risky move for anyone, nonetheless someone in her position, but he would play along with it for however long he needed to.  
        “Where do we start?”  
        She turned the map around to face him, her finger pointing to a small clearing upon it, a black “X” marking the area.  
        “Right here.”


	4. Cigarettes and Compromise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaz, Emma and Mabasashe make an attempt to recover a transmitter from the crash site, but things start to come apart at the seams in more ways than they could have expected.

 

 

_November 1976. Knights of Rhodesia HQ._

 

 

 

        Kaz pulled absent-mindedly at a loose thread on his trousers, trying and failing to distract himself from the throbbing migraine that hadn’t let up at all in the past day and a half. The compound’s water supply was running low and his rations were already half of what the other mercenaries had been allowed, as if keeping him locked up in a room barely larger than a coat closet wasn’t enough. He supposed he could at least be thankful that they had kept him supplied with fresh bandages; upon his return to the compound his wounds had been painstakingly stitched up once more, and he could already begin to see progress in their healing.  
        He stood and wobbled slightly as the blood rushed to his head and he made his way over to the window, leaning heavily against the sill. Hot, dry air met his face and he wiped away a bead of sweat as he watched the mercenaries below. Several of them were loading boxes of ammo into the back of a jeep, and their lighthearted jokes rose up to meet Kaz’s ears. He found himself regretting not being more well-versed in Afrikaans, suddenly and wholeheartedly missing his casual conversations with his own recruits back in Salisbury. He rarely ever gave any of these interactions a second thought before, but Wilma’s chipper _“Good Morning, Major!”_ on every day of the week except Wednesday was missing from his morning routine, which now consisted of nothing but prying himself from the worn mattress he had so graciously been given before making short reports of what had transpired the previous day, as well as whatever information he could pick up from the conversations of the mercenaries outside his window.  
        He couldn’t help but wonder if the SAS was looking for him, if they had any idea at all where the helicopter had gone down. He woke up every morning hoping to hear the sound of rotors in the courtyard as the SAS shut down this rogue mercenary operation and brought him home. But alas, the skies had remained clear and quiet, and he had remained in this stuffy room with only one ration per day, slowly wasting away in the red dust.  
        Kaz had heard fragments of her voice from time to time, the auburn-haired girl. He hadn't seen her since he came back and had been promptly locked in his room, but on several occasions her voice drifted up to his window as she barked out orders in the courtyard. Her mere presence here baffled him. He couldn’t help but be reminded of Paz sticking out like a sore thumb back in the MSF, and he had been starting to wonder if this woman was possibly Cipher-sent, too. He knew the heat and dehydration were getting to him, but he couldn’t shake his paranoia.  
        The sound of raised voices from downstairs met his ears as more arguing commenced in the command room. _Again._ It seemed as though they had been bickering non-stop since he had come back. There was a shout and then the sound of boots on the stairs, the wood creaking beneath each step. Kaz quickly slid back onto the bed just as the door flew open.  
        The woman entered, slamming the door shut behind her and pulling the chair towards the middle of the room. Her face was flushed and Kaz knew she had been entangled in the argument he had just heard. She sat down and reached into her pocket, pulling a carton of cigarettes _-his damn cigarettes-_ from it.  
        “Can I at least have those back?”  
        She ignored his question as she pulled a cigarette from the carton, gently placing it between her lips and pulling out her lighter. She flicked the lighter several times with shaking hands, finally managing to light the cigarette with an almost inaudible sigh.  
        Kaz cleared his throat and her large brown eyes finally flickered up at him, narrowing slightly as she looked him over. She took a pull from the cigarette and a delicate puff of smoke unfurled from her lips, lingering in the air for a moment before quickly dissipating. The moment seemed to last an eternity. Kaz stared challengingly into her eyes and she stared back, almost amused at her situation and the fish that had become entangled in her net; a Major from the Rhodesian SAS, right here in the flesh. Kaz was ashamed of himself. The young woman tucked the carton and lighter back into her pocket and Kaz knew he would probably never see them again. _His last pack…_  
        “Major,” she said, finally and simply. Her voice was more childlike than he remembered, but those two short syllables commanded authority he didn’t expect her to be capable of. She looked up at him expectantly, but Kaz wouldn’t allow her the satisfaction of him calling her by her self-bestowed rank.  
        “Hm.”  
        She took another drag from the cigarette and shot him an icy glare. “We’re heading back to the crash site.” She nodded her head towards the door. “And whether they like it or not, you’re coming.”  
        Kaz could hardly believe his luck. That intel had gone down with him and chances were that it was still sitting in his flight bag… wherever it may have fallen in the crash. He suppressed a relieved sigh and opted to remain nonchalant.  
        “Why?”  
        She raised an eyebrow. “Because it’s one of _your_ goddamn helicopters, that’s why. None of us are familiar with the equipment in one.”  
        Kaz wasn’t sure why they had assumed _he_ would know; he had only ever jumped out of those choppers, never flown them. But as long as it got him the chance to look for that intel, he would play along.  
        “What do you want me to do?”  
        “We’re heading out in an hour. Just you, me and Mabasashe.”  
        “Mabasashe?”  
        She smiled and put the cigarette between her lips. “Your friend. The big one who wants to tear your throat out.”  
        _That one._  
        “You sure he’s not going to put a bullet in my head the moment you let him out of your sight?”  
        “No.” She flicked the ashes from the end of the cigarette, sending them fluttering to the worn floorboards. “But he has enough respect for me that he’ll do as I say. And that means keeping you alive.”  
        Kaz didn’t trust a word of it. He had seen the fire burning in Mabasashe’s eyes and he knew he wanted him dead for one reason or another. But what the girl had said was true, at least from where he stood. He wasn’t a good judge of character when it came to mercs, but they tended to honor their word. She wouldn’t put him in harm’s way, not when they had an agreement.  
        “So,” she said, standing and pushing the chair back to the wall. “Can I trust you?”  
        He stood and extended his hand. “Just don’t give me any reasons to have the SAS shut you down.” He knew his warning would fall flat before the words had even left his mouth. Hell, he had no means to even _make contact_ with Command. But it didn’t hurt to remind her exactly who she was dealing with.  
        She laughed, genuinely amused at his attempt at a threat. “We’ll see about that.” She took his hand with a firm grasp and gave it a shake. She lingered there for a moment before placing her hands on her hips and looking him over with curiosity. “What brings you to Rhodesia, Major?” Her tone changed almost completely as the spirit of inquiry softened her voice.  
        “Excuse me?”  
        “You’re not from Rhodesia, and you’re certainly not an Afrikaner.”  
        “I could ask you the same question.”  
        She huffed and dropped the cigarette to the floor, crushing it under the heel of her boot. “Don't push your luck,” she said, the gentle tone of her voice gone as suddenly as it had emerged. She opened the door and nodded towards the stairs. “Let’s go.”  
        Kaz tentatively made his way through the doorway, feeling her eyes on the back of his head. He slowly made his way down the stairs, relishing the opportunity to stretch his legs after being cooped up for so long. As he entered the command room Mabasashe looked up, and the room’s other occupants followed suit.  
        “Well,” Mabasashe said, a wide smile crossing his face. “ _Mabono_ has finally joined us. He will lead us to victory, won't he?” The other mercenaries laughed and Kaz could feel the heat creeping into his cheeks.  
        “Mabono?”  
        His cluelessness drew even more amusement from the others, some of whom were already doubled over with laughter.  
        “He says you’re white trash,” the girl spoke up from behind him, circling the table and taking her place next to Mabasashe. She didn’t even bother to hide the smile on her face.  
        “I think ‘Major’ will do just fine,” Kaz said defiantly.  
        The laughter stopped abruptly and Mabasashe’s smile disappeared. “You have no rank here, boy,” he growled.  
        Kaz was suddenly reminded of the feel of the cold metal of Mabasashe’s pistol on the back of his head, and he decided to hold his tongue.  
        The woman studied the map for a moment before looking at her watch. “Is everything loaded into the jeep?”  
        One of the mercenaries spoke up from the corner. “Everything’s ready.”  
        “Well.” The woman took one last glance at the map before pulling a harness from a nearby chair, slipping it on and buckling it. “Shall we?” She handed Mabasashe a set of handcuffs and he made his way around the table, firmly taking hold of Kaz’s wrists and cuffing them before he could protest. He pushed Kaz through the door and out into the heat, and even with his glasses Kaz had to shelter his eyes from the sun’s rays. He followed Mabasashe and the woman to the jeep, watching as they meticulously loaded and inspected their weapons.  
        “Do you expect to run into trouble?” He was aware of how idiotic the question sounded but he knew he would be a sitting duck with his hands bound.  
        “Doesn’t hurt to be prepared,” the woman said, placing her weapon in the rear of the jeep. She motioned for him to get in, and he slid into the back seat.  
        “So I’ll have a weapon, right?”  
        She ignored him and slid into the passenger seat, saying something he couldn’t understand to Mabasashe, who laughed and turned the key in the ignition. The motor sprang to life and Mabasashe shifted it into gear, pulling out of the shade of the command building and heading out of the compound. The large gates were opened and they began to make their way down the winding road, careful to avoid the jagged rocks.  
        “They’ll hear us coming if we pull up in a goddamn jeep.”  
        His statement was once more ignored as Mabasashe and the woman exchanged words in Afrikaans. Kaz pursed his lips and concentrated on identifying specific words to try to make out what they were saying. He could only identify a few, mostly consisting of “I” and “you”, which did him no good in translating, and he eventually considered the whole thing a futile effort and gave up. He leaned forward in his seat.  
        _“Commander.”_  
        She stopped mid-sentence and turned in her seat to face him, her eyebrow raised.  
        “Hm?”  
        He held up his hands in front of him, his restraints flashing in the sun.  
        “How do you expect me to be of use with these?”  
        “You’re going to tell us where the transmitter is and we’ll do the work. All you have to do is sit there looking pretty.”  
        Kaz clenched his jaw. This threw a wrench in the works, to put it lightly. They would never allow him to go sifting through the wreckage for the papers, nor did he want them to know the files existed in the first place. He would have to improvise. There was no way in hell he was walking out of there without at least one shred of a paper… something, _anything,_ that could be relayed back to Bulawayo.  
        He sat back in his seat and remained silent for the rest of the ride, frantically trying to piece together ways he could distract them. He even mulled over the idea of killing them, but he knew that he would never be able to go back to the base without their presence, and he wouldn’t be able to get past the ZANLA forces on his own, either.  
        They neared the edge of the clearing and Mabasashe pulled the jeep into a cluster of bushes before switching off the ignition. Both he and the Commander slid out of their seats, motioning for Kaz to do the same. They took their weapons from the back and packed their pouches with ammunition before quietly heading over to the tree line. Mabasashe kept his eyes on Kaz at all times, pushing him down behind a tree as the Commander held her binoculars up to her eyes.  
        “Shit,” she breathed, silently counting under her breath.  
        _“Moeilikheid?”_ Mabasashe said quietly, squinting towards the wreckage. Kaz started to peer around the tree but Mabasashe pushed him back.  
        “There are at least nine of them in the clearing alone. Who knows how many more in the brush.”  
        She tucked her binoculars into her pouch, deep in thought. Mabasashe looked back at the jeep and then to Kaz.  
        “How long will it take to dismantle the transmitter?”  
        “Minutes. Tops,” Kaz said somewhat distractedly as he scanned the area surrounding the helicopter for any signs of the flight bag. Mabasashe turned back to the Commander.  
        “Let me create a diversion to draw them away from the wreckage. I’ll use the jeep to stay ahead of them.”  
        The Commander bit her lip and thought it over for a moment. “You sure you’ll be alright?”  
        _“Ek belowe.”_  
        She nodded and Mabasashe quietly rose, moving back through the brush towards the jeep. “I’ll buy you as much time as I can.” He glanced at Kaz uneasily. “And watch this snake. Take care that he does not try anything foolish.”  
        “Oh he won’t,” she said, eyeing Kaz. “Go. Lead them as far west as you can and then turn back to pick us up. Hopefully we’ll have the transmitter by then.”  
        Mabasashe started up the jeep and then tore off through the jungle, disappearing from view. Kaz and the Commander sat in silence with baited breaths. Suddenly the sound of gunshots filled the trees and they turned back to the clearing to see the guerrillas perk up and yell something unintelligible before running in the direction from which the shots had come.  
        “Now’s our chance,” the Commander said, pulling Kaz to his feet and running out into the clearing. Two militants were still lingering around near the wreckage and she lined up her sights, quickly picking them off. She took hold of Kaz’s restraints and pulled him along behind her as she ran towards the helicopter. Kaz scanned the ground as he ran, looking for the bag or any loose papers. Mud and oil covered everything, making it harder to detect any shapes, much less something as small as the file he had been carrying.  
        They reached the hull and she pulled him down behind it, pausing for a moment to catch her breath.  
        “Alright, Major, tell me where it is.” She ducked into the hull and took in her surroundings, observing the jumbles of wires that made up the control console of the helicopter. “Jesus christ, they’ve already scavenged it.”  
        “It should be, ah, behind the altimeter. You can’t miss it.” Kaz already knew by a brief glance at the instrument panel that it had already been stripped of all devices by the guerrillas, transmitter included.  
        She began to inspect the console frantically, and Kaz took the opportunity to search the hull for the files. A patch of white amongst the mud and metal caught his eye and he peered below one of the dismantled seats to see the corners of several papers protruding from the mud.  
        The Commander turned to him and he quickly snapped up again, noting the urgency in her widened eyes. “It’s not here.”  
        Kaz feigned surprise. “Are you sure? It might have been jostled in the crash. Check to see if it got tangled in the wiring.”  
        She nodded and pulled the facing from the panel, diving into the wire-filled mess in desperate search of something Kaz knew very well was not there. The sound of distant gunfire continued, and Kaz knew they didn’t have very long before the guerrillas realized it was a diversion. He quickly dropped to the mud and reached under the seat, mentally cursing the handcuffs, which were complicating everything by a tenfold. His hands felt the texture of paper and he scooped a large portion of the mud towards him, bringing the paper with it. He sat up and carefully pulled the papers from the mud, taking care not to rip them in their soggy state, tucking them into his pocket one by one. He checked back under the seat to make sure he had gotten all he could before turning back around and searching the rest of the helicopter.  
        His stomach churned as he realized that the guerrillas had most likely already taken the rest of the files. They now had almost complete records of SAS troop movements in their possession. The location of thousands of soldiers was in their hands, and it was all Kaz’s fault. He could only hope the papers in his pocket bore the weight of the intel, but he didn’t have the time to sort through it now.  
        The Commander emerged from the control panel empty-handed, her worry now clearly apparent.  
        “It’s _not here,”_ she repeated. Suddenly something within her snapped and she lunged at him, pushing him against the broken window and drawing her gun on him. _“You lying bastard!_ You knew it wouldn’t be here!”  
        She held the gun to his temple, her eyes burning with an anger and hurt he knew couldn’t be attributed to just his actions. A bullet pinged off the side of the helicopter and she was caught off-guard for just a mere split-second, but it was enough time for Kaz to stun her with a blow to the jaw before taking the gun from her loosening grasp. He pushed her to the ground and pinned her arms down with his knees, holding the gun to her head, his finger hovering over the trigger. She looked up at him in shock, a small red bead of blood trickling from her nose down her cheek and her eyes wide with a combination of surprise and fear as she stared up the barrel at him.  
        Time seemed to slow down as Kaz weighed the girl’s life and death with his trigger finger. Every fibre of his being told him to pull the trigger and get it over with, to bestow the same fate upon Mabasashe when he got back. He could take the jeep and make a shot at breaking through the guerrilla’s defenses now that they were scattered. He had what he came for, and it was worth the risk. If he was successful in breaking through, he could still make it back to Salisbury in time to warn them before ZANLA mobilized their forces. His finger grew heavy on the trigger but he made the mistake of glancing at her eyes, which were overcome with a childlike fear as she faced a struggle no one should have to face, the acceptance of her inevitable demise. He could feel her drawing ragged breaths under him, aware that any one of them could be her last.  
        She feared death.  
        He grit his teeth and pressed the gun harder against her forehead, struggling with his own internal conflict. He had done it before in his own dark days as a mercenary. Pulling the trigger had never presented itself as an issue. So why should this be any different? He hadn’t gone soft in Snake’s absence, had he? Her eyes silently pleaded with him to make a decision, her lips parting slightly as her breathing became increasingly labored under the weight of both him and the inevitability of her death. His hand began to shake, and then almost on its own accord his grip relaxed, dropping the gun to the mud.  
        The sound of the jeep’s horn broke Kaz out of his trance and he looked up through the cockpit to see Mabasashe tearing towards the helicopter in the jeep, firing his assault rifle into the air.  
        _“Kom ons gaan, Mwana!”_ he yelled, and suddenly bullets were whizzing over their heads as the guerrillas emerged from the tree line in pursuit. Kaz clambered out of the hull and the Commander followed suit, picking up her gun and firing towards the trees at the approaching soldiers. Mabasashe pulled up next to them and they climbed into the jeep, taking off back in the direction of the base. A wounded ZANLA soldier was in the back, sprawled out and bleeding heavily.  
        Mabasashe looked over at the Commander, who was still visibly shaken by what had just transpired.  
        “Tell me you have that goddamn transmitter!”  
        “I… It wasn’t…” she trailed off, looking down at the gun in her lap.  
        “They had ransacked the chopper,” Kaz finished. “There wasn’t anything left.”  
        “I didn't ask you, _Mabono,_ ” Mabasashe snapped, keeping his eyes on the road before them as they sped onwards, the gunfire growing quieter. He looked at the Commander once more, and this time worry creased his brow. “ _Mwana_... Are you alright?”  
        She nodded silently, unable to tear her eyes away from the pistol that lay before her. Kaz felt the slightest twinge of guilt but he quickly put it out of his mind, instead trying to figure out why he had blown his one decent shot at getting out of here. A silence fell over the jeep’s occupants and remained there for the rest of the ride as they all pondered what had gone wrong in their respective situations.  
        When they pulled up in front of the command building Mabasashe slid out of the driver’s seat painstakingly, his hand over his side. The Commander immediately took notice and ran to him.  
        _“Maba! Jy is geskiet!”_ She pried his hand away and Kaz caught a glimpse of bright scarlet blood soaking through his shirt. He pushed the Commander away and continued up the steps to the command building, throwing open the doors. Kaz slid out of the jeep and followed cautiously. For once the other mercenaries’ eyes weren't on him, but rather on Mabasashe and the Commander.  
        Mabasashe stormed into the command room. “ _Akashinga!”_ He barked. The older man in turned to face them, his brow furrowing when he saw the shape they were in.  
        “The transmitter-”  
        “It was ransacked, Akashinga,” the Commander spoke up, stepping forward. "We searched everywhere for it-”  
        “I suggest we take this SAS traitor out to the courtyard and _put a bullet in his skull!_ ” Mabasashe pushed past her, thrusting his finger towards Kaz.  
        Akashinga shook his head. “That is not necessary. You brought back one of their own, correct?”  
        “Yes, but-”  
        “Hang him out for a day or two then see what he has to say.”  
        Mabasashe stood there for a moment in disbelief, clutching his side as blood seeped through his fingers. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again, sending a slight snarl in Kaz’s direction before turning and heading back out into the courtyard once more.  
        “Commander,” Akashinga continued, making his way over to her, “I think-” He stopped abruptly, glancing at Kaz. “Major, if you wouldn’t mind, I would like to have a word with the Commander.”  
        Kaz looked down at her, her icy stare meeting his own. He knew she wouldn’t tell them what had happened; if they learned that she had let herself get bested by an SAS officer, she would be the next one strung up in the courtyard and left to die. Akashinga undid Kaz’s handcuffs and nodded towards the stairs.  
         Kaz slowly picked his way up the stairs, looking back over his shoulder once more just in time to see Akashinga strike the girl across the cheek with a powerful swing. She stumbled backwards, cradling her cheek as she looked down at the worn floorboards in shame. She would get flak for coming back empty-handed, that much was apparent. Kaz couldn’t care less; as soon as he was back in his room he shut the door behind him, blocking out the brunt of Akashinga's harsh yelling. He pulled the muddy papers from his pocket, spreading them out on the small table in the corner of the room.  
        Most of them were torn fragments, but it was better than nothing. He took his canteen and gently soaked the papers with his precious drinking water, just enough to moisten the mud and wipe it off. He brought the papers over to the windowsill to dry in the late afternoon heat, and soon the smudges of ink became slightly more legible, names and numbers jumping out from the paper.  
        From what he could piece together, he had Colonel Harper’s signature, as well as his own. In addition, he possessed the record of the guerrillas’ troop strength as well as one of two mentions of the strength of the SAS troopers in the area of concern. He suppressed the urge to let loose a string of profanities. There was no doubt about it; the guerrillas now possessed a great deal of the confidential information Kaz had sworn to protect, and all he had to show for his efforts were a few muddied scraps of paper. He held his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes tiredly, trying to figure out how he would explain himself when he got back to Command. A promotion was out of the question, that was for sure. He would consider himself lucky if he even got to keep his unit at all.  
        His thoughts were interrupted as the sound of the main doors being roughly pushed open met his ears, and a moment later he watched the Commander storm across the courtyard, kicking up red dirt behind her as she went. She paused for a moment to kick one of the jeep’s tires, her short guttural yell cutting through the drone of the insects. She turned and looked around, seemingly content that no one had seen her moment of weakness, before making a beeline for one of the buildings across the compound.  
        Kaz turned his attention back to the papers, which were already dry enough that they had taken on their original texture once more. He gently slid them under the mattress before laying back on it, thoroughly exhausted from his exertion that day. He kicked his boots off and brought his feet up on the bed, closing his eyes in an attempt to get some much-needed rest.  
        For now, he could do nothing but stay put. He had already seen what was beyond the tall compound walls and he knew there was no way to get through it without a small army at his disposal. The Knights needed a transmitter just as badly as he did, and for the same reasons, so he knew it wouldn’t be long before they had concocted another plan to try to scavenge one. He promised himself that the next time he had a shot at freedom he would take it, no matter what the cost. Getting back to Salisbury was a priority; playing the Knights’ little game was not.  
        _Nothing_ was going to stand in his way this time.

 


End file.
